


my home was never on the ground

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Series: Asterisms [14]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Dream, Sharing a Bed, graphic depictions of cuddling, spaceship accommodations are cramped, we're talking hardcore snuggles here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:04:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: On the third night Jyn couldn’t sleep, Cassian found her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NB: There are a few paragraphs of explicit sexual content at the beginning of both segments in Chapter 2. The rest of the story is rated T, mostly for profanity.

On Hoth, it had been easy to pretend. The heating system was feeble and unreliable, the climate was unrelenting, and the Alliance had only so many blankets to go around. Ninety percent of Echo Base had found someone—friends, squad mates, lovers—to bunk with against the cold.

Baze and Chirrut shared, of course, K-2 didn’t need organic warmth, and Bodhi had standing offers (both platonic and most definitely not) from half of the fighter pilots. That left Cassian and Jyn as the obvious pair of spares.

Cassian didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged and gave her his door code, said it was a good idea if someone beside Kay knew it anyway, just in case (in case of what, Jyn pointedly ignored). And she’d taken barefaced advantage of it.

But now Echo Base had been evacuated and its personnel hastily scrambled onto any Rebel vessel close enough to hear the call. Jyn had no excuse to invade Cassian’s space any longer. Both of them had ended up on the massive troop transport _Circarpous V_ , where the temperature was always perfectly controlled and even with the sudden doubling of the ship’s complement, everyone had a single berth.

Jyn’s was one in a stack of four. She’d started off on the bottom and hated it, traded for the top thinking that would be an improvement, and continued to hate it. It made her angry to admit, even to herself, but she knew the bunk wasn’t the issue. She’d slept fine in much rougher digs.

No, the problem was that she’d had just long enough on Hoth to get used to the comfort of Cassian’s silent presence while she slept. She’d come to rely on the luxury of waking in a bubble of shared warmth that felt oddly intimate, even though Cassian had contorted himself into ridiculous positions to avoid touching her anywhere above the ankles. That wouldn’t work in these berths; they were a standard two by six, more than long enough for Jyn but so narrow that two people sharing would be plastered much closer together…

She threw an arm over her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. This was ridiculous. If she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well get up and do something useful.

 

On the third night Jyn couldn’t sleep, Cassian found her.

It was 0400 and she was in the comms hub, where she’d spent her past two down shifts sifting through intercepted transmissions from Hutt Space for anything strategically significant. She had the clearance, and with the Rebellion’s chronic lack of analysts, a lot of people nominally assigned elsewhere put in a few casual hours when they could.

He came up to stand beside her console, making just enough noise to ensure that she wouldn’t be startled. Jyn closed her eyes for an instant and refused to stretch out her stiff back as an excuse to let her shoulder brush his thigh.

She didn’t think Cassian had noticed how much she sought his touch, because she was unusually close with all of Rogue One; she actually _liked_ hugging Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut. (She still didn’t care for other people touching her without context or permission, though. Wedge Antilles had nonchalantly slung his arm around her shoulders once after seeing Bodhi do it; she’d curled her lip and he’d moved away from her fast. Antilles might be thoughtless, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.)

Cassian braced one hand on the back of her chair and leaned down to look at her screen. She could feel him scanning the room to make sure no-one was close enough to overhear anything through their headphones before he said into her ear, “If your berth’s not comfortable, take mine. I can tell the quartermaster we’ve swapped.”

“It’s not the berth.” Jyn stared at the glowing lines of text and flagged another word to avoid having to look at Cassian. 

He didn’t say anything else, but his silence was as persistent as another question.

“I just," she muttered. "I got used to—" and stopped, tripping over her instinct to hide. But who was she kidding? Cassian had probably guessed the few of her secrets she hadn't given up to him already. She took a deep breath and hoped the dim blue wash of the screens and projections in the room would cancel out any blush rising to her skin. “Having someone else there.”

The pattern of his breath in her ear broke, and then steadied again. “I did too,” he said, so quietly she could barely heard him over the constant low hum of transmissions playback. "If you're tired. I mean, you could." He swallowed and tried again. "If you still want half of mine, you're welcome to it."

 

His berth was on the bottom, of course, and in a corner of one of the large troop compartments so that it was shielded from two sides. Jyn smiled at the sight. Of course Cassian had managed to acquire one of the few defensible positions in the entire ship. The troops billeted here were mostly on third shift rotation, too, so it was almost empty right now; only a few of the stacked bunks were occupied. 

“Inside or out?” she asked, trying to sound matter of fact. It was his bunk, and his insomnia was worse than hers, so he should have first pick.

He kept his face smooth and blank, but his eyes flickered away when he said, “Outside, if you don’t mind.”

Jyn blinked. She’d have figured he’d rather not have anyone behind him.

“Is that okay?” He smiled, though it was one of his empty, reflex ones. “We could flip for it.”

“No problem,” she said, and kicked off her boots and dove into the berth to prove it. She squirmed backward until her back was pressed against the cool metal of the bulkhead, then patted the space in front of her. “Plenty of room. I left at least ten centimetres for you.” She thought she sounded convincingly light and careless.

Cassian swallowed, and slowly bent over to take off his own boots before climbing into the narrow berth.

The next thirty seconds were some of the most excruciatingly awkward Jyn had ever known, as they tried to make room for knees and elbows and feet. Cassian’s ass (which Jyn had absolutely _not_ devoted a decent amount of time to admiring the shape of in his fatigues) kept pressing into her hips and then jerking away as he flinched.

“Oh, screw this,” Jyn finally muttered, looping an arm around his waist and pulling him firmly back against her. She brought her knees up into the angle of his and pressed her socked toes to his calves. “Just—stay there, okay? I’m good if you are.”

He cleared his throat and his voice was a little hoarse when he said, “Okay.”

Jyn didn’t want to leave her hand anywhere near the fastening of Cassian's pants, so she folded her arm back up to rest along his tricep. They were crammed so close together that her face was mashed between his shoulderblades, but she had room to breathe if she tucked her chin into her chest, and the steady rise and fall of his back was already lulling her into drowsiness.

It was almost like being protected by a wall. Not that Jyn needed it; she still had a knife strapped to her calf (not to mention they were in a ship full of Rebel personnel), but she had her back to a solid surface and Cassian was between her and any possible threat. She wondered if that was why he’d chosen to be on the outside, and frowned.

“You sure you can sleep like this?” she whispered into his shirt, and a tremor ran through Cassian’s body. “With me in your blind spot?”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, cutting her off. “I don’t mind.”

The warmth curling and expanding inside Jyn’s chest wasn’t completely from shared body heat. “Good,” she said, pressing her forehead tighter against his spine, and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from Alice Merton's (insanely catchy) song "No Roots."
> 
> This started off as a couple of prompt fills; basically, it was an excuse to write bedsharing (which I've done surprisingly rarely). On my Tumblr, there's a [short prequel from Cassian's POV](https://incognitajones.tumblr.com/post/166862549553/trick-or-treat-rebelcaptain-if-you-please-0d) which didn't quite fit into the narrative.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proximity leads to some awkward moments.

Jyn’s smile bares teeth against the skin of Cassian’s throat, but her lips are warm, and soft, and agonizingly gentle as she kisses her way down his jawline. She diverts to trace her tongue along his ear, which he’s never thought of as sensitive before, but oh Force, he was wrong. The delicate pinch when she bites down on the lobe makes him arch up into her, wordlessly begging for more.

She moans and her hips tilt, rocking down against Cassian’s thigh. A sharp thrill of pleasure runs up his spine, making him shiver, but it’s not enough for either of them. Desperate to feel more of her, Cassian wraps his arms low around her hips and pulls her flush against him. “Please,” he mumbles against her neck, “please,” and she grinds into him harder. He holds her tight, her breath hot on his cheek, and presses his thigh up between hers, chasing more friction as the tingling electric rush through his bloodstream builds.

Panting, Jyn seals her hungry mouth to his neck and he can feel a whimper rising in his throat. She sucks another sharp-edged kiss into his skin and Cassian throws his head back, yielding, letting her mark him as she pleases. His hips are pulsing helplessly against hers, his own breathing is forced in short, harsh pants and he wants, he wants, oh how he wants to feel her come…

He jerks, and gasps—and woke up.

His body was still throbbing, insistently aroused, and for a long moment he was totally disoriented. But the familiar subliminal hum of engines snapped his memory back into its socket: he was in his berth on the _Circarpous V_. Sharing it with Jyn. Close behind her, his nose pressed into her hair, one arm wrapped around her waist.

His erection snug against the curve of her ass.

He stopped breathing. With air frozen in his lungs he listened for any sign that Jyn was awake. But her ribs rose and fell steadily under his elbow, and her body was still slack and relaxed against his.

She must have crawled into bed late last shift, after he was asleep; that would explain why he was on the inside of the berth for a change. It didn’t explain why he hadn’t woken up. He ought to be worried that Jyn could apparently disarm all of his defensive instincts—but right now he was more concerned with his unruly body.

They’d tacitly agreed to ignore the way this smaller space forced them to touch. Even on Echo Base they’d sometimes been drawn closer than practicality could excuse, but the narrow bunks on the _Circarpous_ made seamless contact unavoidable. So when they woke with Jyn’s arm flung around Cassian’s waist and her face pressed into the nape of his neck, he’d laughed it off with a comment about how bad he must smell. Or when he’d somehow rolled over and morning found them with her head tucked securely under his chin and their legs wound together, Jyn had made a joke about tentacle creatures.

Cassian had tried to compartmentalize. The fact that he now knew what Jyn’s hair felt like against his cheek, how warm her palm cupping his hip was—that had nothing to do with how they acted during the day, he told himself. The fact that she shared his bunk 8 out of 10 nights didn’t mean he asked where she was or what she did on the other two.

But compartmentalization didn’t work when your partner’s firm ass was pressed up against the aftereffects of a very vivid dream. Cassian tried to push backward and open a sliver of space between them, but he was already up against the bulkhead. He had nowhere to go.

This was so much easier when he was on the outside, dammit. Then he was able to wake early, his internal clock matching shiptime for once, and force himself to slip out of the warm pocket next to her body. 

He ignored the sensation of her hair tickling his nose and tried to focus. He had no idea how Jyn would react to his hard-on; she might laugh and shrug it off, or she might be so uncomfortable she stopped sleeping here—which likely meant she’d stop sleeping, thanks to her insomnia, and he wasn’t going to risk that. So he had to get out of bed before she woke and was confronted with the evidence of something that could unsettle their delicately balanced arrangement. And quickly, because his cock was still standing at attention like an overeager recruit.

Cassian took a deep breath and pushed gently at Jyn’s shoulder. “Jyn.” He kept his voice low and calm, not wanting to startle her. “Jyn, I need to get up.”

 _You are up_ , his brain unhelpfully reminded him. “I have to get out,” he said, slightly louder. “Jyn?”

Her body shifted, rubbing against him, and she made a low, protesting noise in her throat. Something in his chest tightened and turned over, as though his heart were literally being wrung out. He prodded her shoulder again. In the surrounding berths people were starting to stir for the beginning of second shift, and if he didn’t get out of here soon this would become even more embarrassing. “Can you slide over for a second?”

“Wha…?” He could pinpoint the second she woke fully, her voice sharpening into full awareness. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Not a problem,” he interrupted her, brusquer than he meant to be. “I just need to go.”

She yawned, and rolled forward on to her stomach to give him a few centimetres of clearance. Cassian placed his hands very carefully and concentrated desperately on not letting his lower body brush against her as he crawled out of the berth. He detangled himself from the blanket as late as possible as he stood, and grabbed his jacket from the hook on the bunk post, holding it casually at his waist.

“S’happening?” Jyn mumbled, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and hair flattened on one side.

Another pang throbbed in his chest. “Just a trip to the head,” he lied. “Go back to sleep.”

She yawned again and closed her eyes without questioning him any further. She must be truly exhausted.

Cassian did not sprint for the corridor. He just walked at a pace fast enough to ensure anyone else not in a hurry would get out of his way. He didn’t linger to take in what Jyn looked like in the morning, tousled hair and sleepy eyes, warm and soft and pliant. That was only going to make things harder (innuendo most definitely not intended). He didn’t want that image in his head.

But it was already there. And it made him wonder, afterward, as he pressed his forehead against the icy wall of the fresher, how much longer this could go on before he ruined it. What if he hadn’t woken up in time? What if he’d started rubbing against Jyn while he was asleep? Would she have been angry, amused… aroused?

Had she ever had the same kind of dream while she was lying next to him?

Cassian shoved wet hair out of his eyes and wrenched the spray setting over to cold. If he started thinking about that, he’d never be able to stop.

 

* * *

 

Cassian’s breath grazes Jyn and her hips fly up instinctively. He wraps his arms around them and spreads his fingers across her belly, pressing down into the tense muscle to hold her still. Then a slow hot sweep of his mouth, one exploratory flick over her clit—just a touch—and then he moves back down, pressing the tip of his tongue inside her. She gasps, managing to choke out, “Higher, ah—higher—”

“Mmm,” Cassian agrees and the vibration against her flesh unravels her. She rocks against his mouth, a low sob spilling from her throat.

Her thighs are trembling, her lungs burning. Her hips keep moving uncontrollably in counterpoint to his tongue pressing inside her. Another rough, choked-off noise escapes her when he rubs his thumb against her gently, more cautious than she wants.

She clenches her fists in the sheets and pushes her heels into the bed, lifting her hips, shamelessly thrusting herself against his mouth and hand. Cassian groans and she’d feel smug about that except that right now she only cares about the next stroke of his tongue—she needs more, Force, she needs—and then she inhales raggedly as his finger slides into her, stretching, filling.

She can hear herself moaning, feels her throat working but she doesn’t know what she’s saying except that she needs more—ahhh, more—and he must be able to interpret her incoherent noises, because there, oh yes, _there_ —that’s perfect—

Jyn’s eyes flew wide open and she choked on an indrawn gulp of air. Her whole body was still burning with want, her head spinning. She sucked in a huge breath. She knew it had been a dream but—Cassian’s mouth, it had felt so _real_ — 

And he was right there next to her: his back warm against her chest, his hand lightly clasping her knee where it was folded behind his. Jyn held herself rigid and still, searching for any hint that he might be awake. She remembered the obscene noises she’d been making in her dream and cringed. Could she have made them out loud too? But the calm rhythm of his breathing didn’t change, and his body remained quiet and still. Cassian was a light sleeper; if he’d heard… something, he’d have stirred.

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of vast relief. Whatever, sex dreams happened. Everyone knew they didn’t mean anything. Jyn had once had an extremely graphic one about Mon Mothma that made her eye the woman curiously for a week, wondering if the coolly poised Senator could actually be that uninhibited.

On the other hand, waking up wet and aching, squeezing her thighs together from a dream about the person sleeping next to her was a whole new level of awkwardness. But she couldn’t extract herself from the berth without waking Cassian. Then he’d want to know why she was getting up earlier than the last possible second before breakfast, which was definitely not her style.

So she stayed there, shaky and oversensitive, feeling Cassian’s warm solidity like a bulwark in front of her, inhaling his scent with every breath. What would happen if she moved just enough to nudge her hips against his, or if he rolled over to face her in his sleep? Would he press his mouth to her forehead, pull her even closer? Would he wake in the same kindled, touch-craving state she had?

Jyn rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down to distract herself. Best not to think about it. Cassian had to know she wanted him, he was an expert in reading people and their motivations; but he’d never picked up any of the unsubtle hints she’d thrown at him. Even when they were pressed bodily together in a space barely larger than a coffin, he treated her like a sister. So he just wasn’t interested—which would be fine, if she hadn’t gotten herself trapped in this ridiculous situation where she spent almost every night cuddling with him like a pair of repressed virgins. She pressed her forehead into Cassian’s spine and sighed again.

His shoulders twitched, the little tremor that ran through him as he woke already familiar to her. “Jyn? Are you awake?” His voice was soft, but clear and lucid. Whether by training or nature, he was one of those annoying people who could jump from deep asleep to fully alert in an eyeblink. Jyn wished she were as smooth, but she’d always been more easily startled.

“…Yeah,” she whispered.

“Bad dream?”

“Kind of.” She hesitated, but he was giving her an opportunity she ought to seize. “Can you shove over and let me out?”

He obligingly slid toward the edge of the bunk and sat up, his head bowed to fit under the one above. One of the few advantages of being this short was that Jyn didn’t have to worry about bumping her head as she squirmed out from behind him.

She let herself rest a hand on Cassian’s shoulder for balance as she swung her feet to the floor. But that was a mistake; her hand yearned to stay there, to stroke up his neck in search of bare skin and weave into his hair… she pulled away and leaned on the bunk post for support as she stomped into her open boots, leaving the laces for later.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “See you later.”

She stole a look back as she wove between the columns of stacked berths. Cassian hadn’t lain down again; he was still sitting on the edge of the bunk, bracing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He didn’t look rested at all, and her throat constricted at the thought that she might have deprived him of the sleep he needed.

This had seemed like such a simple thing at the start: each of them slept better with the other there for comfort, so why not keep going? But of course, she’d had to go and spoil it with her stupid uncontrollable want. Nothing ever stayed simple, and Jyn didn’t know what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sleep,” he whispered, and his breath on the side of her neck made her tremble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short conclusion! Hopefully, someone besides me is interested in 4000 words of explicit cuddling.
> 
> Partly inspired by this [lovely piece of fanart](http://freebooter4ever.tumblr.com/post/157852329229/some-days-space-travel-is-just-too-much-and-you).

A swarm of people—various species, but all looking weirdly similar in their dusty robes and head coverings—poured out of the ship as soon as it stopped rocking on the landing pad. Jyn had taken shelter from the blazing sun in the shade of the port’s customs office while she waited for the shuttle; she scanned the disembarking crowd of traders, moisture farmers, scavengers, and their droids but couldn’t see anyone familiar. Drawing the scarf she wore farther down over her eyes, she licked her cracked lips. There was no logical reason for her to be disappointed.

Kriff him anyway. If she were still hung up on Andor after four standard weeks away from him, the man really had scrambled her brains. It was good, she told herself, that she’d left before things could get even more confusing.

It didn’t matter anyway. She was here to do a job, and she’d done it. When Draven had asked her to make contact with the Partisans in this system, Jyn could have said no. She wasn’t technically part of Intelligence—she wasn’t sure whether she was under any formal command structure yet, despite having told Mon Mothma she’d enlist—but she didn’t want to antagonize the General any more than she already had. And she’d managed to do more than just talk: she’d helped the local cell make a strike against the Imp garrison, and now its leaders were willing to consider working with the Alliance again. She’d be able to say she’d made an actual contribution the next time she saw Cassian. Whenever that was.

Once the crowd had thinned, Jyn stepped out of the shade and headed for the shuttle. Sweat slicked her forehead as the heat slammed into her from both the sun overhead and the duracrete underfoot. A kick from a trooper’s heavy plated boot had left a bone-deep bruise on her back, she smelled like the inside of a tauntaun (or the outside, she wasn’t sure—whichever was more disgusting) and her head was fuzzy from lack of sleep. She thought longingly of Cassian’s sheltered berth on the _Circarpous V_ , where she could have folded herself around his warmth... She shook her head to snap out of it. It could take a full day to rendezvous with the troopship, after a pickup by a Rebel courier. In the meantime, she’d have to wedge herself into whatever corner she could find on this public shuttle and try to doze.

Her bruised muscles were stiff from standing in one position for too long but she pushed herself to keep lurching doggedly forward up the ramp. The lines of a familiar profile emerged from the relative darkness at the top and an irrational flash of hope surged through Jyn’s veins. She lifted her chin, straining her neck to see better, even though it had to be her imagination. Why would Cassian be here, on a shuttle run to a seedy Mid-Rim planet?

But he was. When he caught her gaze and sketched a subtle acknowledgement with one hand, her heartbeat turned into the rhythm section of a cantina band: over-enthused and irregular, too loud for the space it filled. Cassian might actually be able to hear it as she slowed, stopping in front of him with most of her weight on her less-stiff leg. She hitched her fingers into the strap of her duffel over her shoulder to keep from reaching out for him. “What are you doing here?” She hoped he wasn’t about to tell her he was shipping out to this sandy pest-hole for six months.

“They needed someone with the clearance to courier a message to Borleias, and this was on the return leg…” He paused. “I thought you might be ready to come—back.”

Had he been about to say “home”? Jyn let herself smile finally, enjoying the reflection of her grin breaking out in the tiny quirk of Cassian’s lip. “Damn right,” she said, wincing as she took another step forward and her back protested again. “I need a bacta patch, a sonic, and at least six hours’ sleep in a real bed. No more karking hammocks.”

Cassian turned and fell close in step with her as she limped down the cramped corridor to the passenger compartment. “How’s one out of three?” he asked wryly. “I've got a patch for your back—was it a blaster or knife?”

“Someone’s boot.”

“But it’s a short-range shuttle, so there are no sonics on board, and as you can see…” He waved at the open space in front of them where some kriffing genius had torn out all of the padded benches that normally stood in ranks. “Nowhere to lie down, either.”

“Just get me that patch and I can sleep. You’ll see.” Jyn heaved her duffel off her shoulder, ready to drop where she stood, but Cassian caught the strap with one hand and jerked his chin toward the far corner of the compartment. She followed the movement and saw that he’d managed to find an alcove half-sheltered by a jutting tangle of ventilation conduits. She ducked her chin into her scarf to hide her idiotically fond smile. Trust Cassian to always scout the best nooks and corners.

She couldn’t walk at her usual speed, but he kept slow pace with her patiently until they reached his chosen spot and he let her bag drop with a thud. Jyn braced one hand on the bulkhead, taking a deep breath in preparation for somehow getting down to the floor. No way around it, it was going to hurt. Cassian held out his arm and she grabbed his elbow for extra support, trying not to think about the fact that this was the first time she’d touched him in more than a month while she lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the decking.

She unwound the scarf from around her head and shook a dune’s worth of sand out of it while Cassian dug through his own small pack. He crouched in front of her, holding out a canteen and two painkillers.

She plucked just one out of his palm, and he frowned at her. “Take both. It’s a six-hour flight, you’ll need them.” His voice dropped into a softer, almost intimate tone. “You can rest. I’ll be here.”

The warm rush of relief that flowed through Jyn at those words felt as potent as the medication. She still made a face, to remind him she wouldn’t do his bidding without at least a token protest, but she swallowed both pills and handed the canteen back to him.

“Do you want help with the patch?” Cassian didn’t look at her when he asked, busily tightening the lid back on his canteen. Jyn didn’t _want_ his help, exactly… but the thought of having to twist around to get the patch on the worst of the bruise made her wince in anticipation. If she’d been on her own, she’d have done it despite the pain; she’d manage, she could always manage—but she didn’t have to today. That was the point of having a partner she could trust, even if the thought of his hands on her bare skin made her throat drier than the desert air. He’d offered, after all. Jyn was reading too much into it.

She didn’t trust her voice to sound detached, so she just nodded and turned her back to him. Her muscles were already stiff enough that she didn’t have her full range of motion, and lifting her arms to pull her shirt from the waist of her trousers pressed a thin gasp out of her before she could keep it behind her lips. Behind her, Cassian’s ringing silence was as loud as a lecture. He tugged her shirt up the rest of the way himself, inhaling between his teeth at the sight of her back. Jyn hadn’t been able to get a look at it, but she imagined it was pretty colourful by now.

“I can tell what boot size that buckethead wore,” he muttered. “You’ve practically got tread marks.” In contrast to his irritable tone, his hands were gentle as they smoothed the patch out from the centre of the bruise, meticulously covering every millimetre, as delicately as though she were made of glass. The cool gel against her skin made her shiver. He took his hands away, pulled her shirt back down carefully and she sighed as the soothing sensation began to work through her knotted muscles.

“Thanks,” she said, wide-mouthed around a yawn. Somehow the shuttle had filled up with passengers without her paying as much attention as she should have, while Cassian was behind her. 

“Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll wake you when we get to the transfer point.”

Jyn was so tired her vision was blurry. She’d slept the past few nights, mostly because she was so exhausted she passed out once she managed to clamber into her hammock. But she didn’t wake rested; she hadn't had anyone she trusted around to watch her back, and sleeping within reach of a weapon only gave you so much reassurance. She curled up with her back to the wall, head on her duffel, and draped her scarf over her eyes to soften the harsh lights. Despite the noise of conversation bouncing off the hard walls, she figured she’d be unconscious before they launched into hyperspace.

But it was even colder than usual on this shuttle—the same credit-pinching bastard who’d taken out the benches must have messed with the climate control—and though the painkillers had dulled the grinding ache down her entire right side, she was still stiff. She couldn’t find a comfortable position. Lying on the ridged metal decking left her cold and shivering; sitting up against the bulkhead put pressure on her bruise. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned forward to rest her head on her drawn-up knees. Another chain of tremors racked her body and she tucked her hands under her thighs, clenching her jaw to keep it from chattering.

“Jyn?” The sound of her name in Cassian’s voice sent another shiver through her. “You’re cold. Or is it your back?”

“Both,” she mumbled. He slid closer and when she felt his warmth radiating along her right side, she couldn’t help melting into it like overnight frost in the desert sun.

“If you need a pillow...” He unfolded his arm, wordlessly inviting her to settle against him.

Cautiously, Jyn shifted and turned around so that she could lay her head on his shoulder, waiting for a spike of pain in her back. But this position didn’t seem to put as much strain on it, or maybe it was the painkillers finally kicking in. Or maybe, she admitted to herself, Cassian just made her feel better.

Her left cheek resting on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and tucked her face into his shirt to breathe the comforting reassurance of his scent. She tried to ignore that they were in the corner of a crowded shuttle surrounded by people who might be watching them. But when he wrapped his arm around her and smoothed his palm up and down the uninjured side of her back, she stopped caring. If Cassian wasn’t worried about doing this in public, she wasn’t going to object. Maybe it was for better cover; they could pass as a reunited couple or something.

She dared to inch her right hand over across the shuttle floor and laced her fingers carefully through his. His other hand slid up her back to cup the nape of her neck and Jyn went limp against him. He bent his head and his cheek brushed her hair. She felt the steady rhythm of his heart reverberate in her flesh and her nerves, all the way down her spine. “Sleep,” he whispered, and his breath on the side of her neck made her tremble. But she was tired, so tired, and now she was safe at last, safe in Cassian’s arms…

She let herself fall into sleep, the heavy and impenetrable sleep of drugged exhaustion.

 

The meds must have been stronger than Jyn thought because she barely remembered docking at the tiny waypoint moon where they transferred to a smaller Rebel cutter. Shuffling through the long grey corridors felt like part of an unending dream. Cassian’s arm stayed around her waist to guide her and her hips kept bumping his at every step, not just because she was half-asleep, but because her body was pulled toward him like water by the tide. All she wanted was to stop moving, lean against Cassian and go under the waves again.

The second ship was a tiny single-pilot shuttle, barely large enough for inter-system jumps, but at least it had a bench. Cassian steered her toward the padded seat and she collapsed on it with a heavy sigh. He started to edge away, but she was drowsy and loopy enough from the meds that she fisted her hand in his shirt and clung to him like a child’s stuffed toy. “Wher’you going?” she slurred as her heartbeat picked up.

“Nowhere.” He sat down beside her with a softly amused snort and she settled back into the curve of his arm, surrendering to unconsciousness again.

When she finally began to wake, her thoughts were so thick and syrupy that she wasn’t sure at first whether she was still dreaming or already back on the _Circarpous V._ But as she struggled to full awareness, she heard a voice she half-recognized saying something she didn’t quite understand, and laughter.

“Shut up, Melshi,” Cassian hissed. He’d turned his head away so that he wasn’t speaking directly into her ear, but his whisper managed to sound cold and menacing. “If you wake her, so help me I’ll—”

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you alone. But here’s a tip, Andor: if you don’t want people thinking you’re an item, maybe you should quit sleeping in each other’s arms.”

Cassian’s chest shifted underneath her cheek as he lifted the arm she wasn’t lying on. She was almost positive he was flipping Melshi off as the other man walked away, and the picture in her head made her stifle a laugh in the fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry,” Cassian muttered.

“For what?” Jyn yawned. “Melshi being an asshole?”

“For waking you. And for Melshi.”

She shrugged without lifting her head from his shoulder. “He’s just looking for a new scrap of gossip to spread. Honestly, the Rebellion’s worse than a nest of Bothans for chatter. I’ve lost count of how many perverts think it’s hilarious to ask me what you’re like in bed.”

She felt Cassian’s muscles tighten beneath her, but his voice was light and amused. “Really. What do you tell them?”

“That you snore.” She smiled into his chest. “I had to protect that berth. I wasn’t about to give my space up to anyone else.”

It wasn’t much of a joke, but she had to try and lighten the mood, bring back the atmosphere of lazy contentment she’d been feeling until a few seconds ago. Cassian didn’t relax underneath her, though. Melshi’s comment must have bothered him more than he was willing to admit; clearly he didn’t want her draped all over him any more.

So Jyn pulled away. She dragged herself out of the shelter of his arm and sat up straight, rolling her neck and shoulders as an excuse for her change in position. The bacta had done its work because her back didn’t hurt that much anymore. All she felt was a faint twinge in her muscles as she leaned down to dig the canteen out of her duffel.

“You can have the berth, you know. You don’t have to share it with me.” Jyn couldn’t keep from darting a quick sideways glance at Cassian, but he was looking down at his hands. “Or I can find you a better one, the quartermaster owes me a favour.”

“What?” Jyn’s voice sounded thin in her own ears. “Why—?” She choked the question back. This was the perfect opportunity to create distance, the way she’d been telling herself she ought to for weeks. Only now that it looked like it might actually happen, it made her feel frozen to think about it.

But if it was what Cassian wanted... She took a drink of water to give her hands something to do and to hide the way her mouth was trembling.

“Okay,” she said. It came out flat and too loud despite her effort to sound casual. Melshi turned his head to glance at them over his shoulder, and Jyn glared ferociously at him. He turned back to his instrument panel.

She took another sip of water and shifted over before she leaned against the bulkhead, scrupulously leaving enough space between the two of them that their arms no longer touched. Her side felt cold and exposed.

“Almost there,” Cassian said, short and clipped. She didn’t look over at him again. “One more short jump to the _Carp_.”

“I don’t really care what people think,” Jyn said abruptly, and snapped her mouth shut, almost biting her tongue. She hadn’t known what she was going to say until she said it. Her hand tightened around the sweating metal of her canteen. “If you don’t want people thinking we’re together, that’s fine. But don’t leave on my account.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t care either. People have thought far worse of me.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Jyn blurted, struggling to keep her voice low enough to talk about this in a shuttle with an open cockpit. Melshi might be wearing a headset, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. This was the kind of conversation she’d really prefer to have while they were alone. Of course, with her luck, she and Cassian were never going to have another moment alone before the heat death of the universe.

“If I did anything that made you uncomfortable, you’d tell me, wouldn't you?” Cassian was staring at his hands laced together over one thigh. His profile was hard, immobile and unreadable.

“Of course,” Jyn said without thinking, and then stopped short, wondering if this was his way of hinting. “Same goes for you, right? Did I—did I ever make it weird?” A crawling shudder of embarrassment crept over her.

“No,” Cassian said quickly. In her peripheral vision, his left hand twitched, as though he’d stopped himself from reaching out to her. “But sometimes when you’re next to me, it’s hard not to—well, my body reacts but it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a reflex…”

Of fucking course. He had noticed her crush and was trying to warn her off. “I get it,” she said. Anything to make him stop talking.

He took a deep breath and then deflated, rubbing one hand quickly across his face and producing a smile that made her teeth hurt. “Okay.”   

“No.” Jyn’s hand clenched again, and she had to put her canteen down before she dented the cheap metal. “No, it’s not okay. I don’t want your damn bunk! What I _want_ is the chance to kiss you, just once. But I know this isn’t the kind of situation where I can have what I want, so I’m trying to be a fucking grown-up about it.”

Cassian’s face went blank with shock. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, furious with herself. But the rancor was definitely out of its cage now, and if Jyn was anything, she was a fighter; she might as well go down swinging. She swallowed, but her voice was still raw and wobbly when she went on. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to give up your bunk or anything stupid like that. I can find a new assignment, go join Bodhi on _Home One_ or somewhere else—”

“Jyn.” Cassian’s voice was carefully calm. “Did you just say you want to kiss me?”

She ground her teeth in exasperation. “You have _no idea_ how many times I wanted to turn over in that bunk and kiss the hell out of you,” she muttered.

“I might have some idea. You weren't the only one thinking about it...” Cassian's smile was uncertain but spreading. He tipped his chin down toward her and Jyn watched the hard-edged blue shadows cast by the shipboard lighting deepen the hollows under his cheekbones. “You had to tell me this with Melshi three metres away? You couldn’t wait until we had five minutes alone?” he asked, soft and plaintive.

She felt a helpless answering smile curl her lips. “No.”

They swayed closer, bodies drawn together. Her throat was parched as if she hadn't had a drink of water in days, the way it had been in the desert when the air sucked the moisture out of you. She swallowed hard and Cassian’s eyes tracked the movement. His hand came up and one thumb outlined the edge of her bottom lip, feather light and leaving a tingling trail behind it. She was gasping for breath, light-headed with the shuddering need to touch him.

He pulled her back into his arms and she wound hers around him in return as an anchor—she might float away like she was in null-gee if not for his grasp. Cassian held her tight, cupping her head in one hand and burying his fingers in her hair, scraping them lightly across her scalp. Her eyelids fell shut; she was ready to purr, like a tooka-cat being caressed.

Cassian’s other hand stroked slowly up and down her back, tracing each bump in her spine as though he were taking careful inventory of her by touch. His hands weren't anywhere that they couldn’t have been in front of a superior officer—and yet it wasn’t innocent in the slightest. A thrill of want raced after his fingers, rippling ahead of them to the centre of her. Her whole body throbbed and ached.

“I was always so tempted to touch you.” His voice was another kind of caress, his warm breath moving over the tender skin beneath her ear. She shivered convulsively, and he tightened his arms around her. “I’d dream about you, and I’d wake up, and my hands wanted to run over your skin…” She heard him swallow. “Did you ever…?”

Jyn had trouble catching her breath enough to gasp out a tiny, “Yes,” against his throat. She already knew so much of Cassian: the way he smelled, the texture of his hair, how the planes and dips of his body felt though his clothes. Now that she knew it wasn’t just her—that he craved her touch as much as she did his, that he wanted more too—it made her shift against him, currents of longing flowing through her wherever his fingers wandered. Her pulse thundered in her veins like storm surge.

“When we’re back on the _Carp,_ as soon as you get through debrief,” he said in her ear, his low voice making her toes spasm inside her boots, “I’m going to kiss you.”

Holy Force, Jyn wanted that more than she’d wanted water in the middle of the desert. But she didn’t see how, given that troop carriers weren’t exactly designed for private rendezvous. “Where?” she asked, a pleading note in her voice.

Cassian turned his head a little closer into her neck and breathed the answer against her skin. “Everywhere.”

A rush of want shook Jyn; her whole body tingled and it was hard to get air in and out of her lungs. “I meant, where on board. There aren’t exactly a lot of private spaces.”

“Mmm, on a ship that size?” Cassian’s voice was softly amused. He pulled back, just a tiny distance but enough to make Jyn miss the rasp of his beard against her cheek. His mouth hovered over her skin. “I wouldn’t be a very good spy if I didn’t know where to find a quiet—isolated—secure room.” At each brief pause his lips touched her neck lightly in something that was just this side of a kiss.

The thought of being alone with Cassian behind a door that locked was enough to make Jyn dizzy. A bed wasn’t even necessary; the floor would do just fine. She wanted to pour herself over him like water, cover every millimetre of his skin with kisses. She squirmed restlessly and felt his silent laugh as a small heave of his chest beneath her.

“You’re a menace,” she told him. She turned in his arms, settling her back to his chest, and deliberately grazed her palm over the front of his pants as she moved. He twitched, sucking in a quick breath, and she smiled. “Does this mean I still get to share your bunk?” she asked. “Or are you going to kick me out now?”

“I don’t know, do you think we can behave ourselves in public?” He sounded breathless and Jyn was delighted at her success, until he brushed his lips up the exposed nape of her neck, along her hairline, paralyzing her with a thrill of desire. 

Well, if he wanted to tease, two could play that game. She took one of his hands, brought it to her mouth and placed delicate kisses to his knuckles, her tongue flicking out inquisitively. He shifted under her and she could hear his breath surging faster in her ear. “Patience,” she told him smugly. Anticipation fizzed through her and she indulged herself with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, arching against him again.

“I can wait.” He crossed his arms around her waist, holding her even tighter to him. “Not much longer, though.”

“No,” she agreed, and squeezed his hand. “Not long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an outro, I suggest listening to Jason Isbell's [Cover Me Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdwnGG29Upw), which was my background music for writing this story. I think of it as Cassian's bookend song to “No Roots" because some of the lyrics are so on point.


End file.
